


Mix and Match

by PandaPrincessRose (DaemonRose)



Series: Beautiful Problems [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Bruce Wayne, Identity Porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaemonRose/pseuds/PandaPrincessRose
Summary: Clark came to Gotham to investigate in a case of stolen weapons and ran into Matches Malone for the first time.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: Beautiful Problems [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611886
Comments: 4
Kudos: 114





	Mix and Match

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt by kiduroku on tumblr:  
> Superbat identity porn, with Matches Malone and bottom!Bruce.
> 
> I really liked that prompt but I had no idea if I could write Matches, his accent and all since I haven’t read much about him and I’m not American but I did some research and tried but idk just imagine his jersey accent I guess. Hope this isn’t too out of character and makes sense somehow.

“Y’see, Roman, it pays off to listen to ol’ Matches.”  
Roman Sionis came around his desk toward Matches Malone, who was chewing on his trade mark match sticking out of the corner of his mouth.  
“It does,” Sionis said, held his hand out and Malone shook it. “My man here will give you your share for your help.”  
“Thank you. T’was a pleasure makin’ business with you.”  
“Maybe we’ll come together again some time.”  
“Maybe. ‘till then.”  
Matches waved and followed Sionis’ man outside, where he got a bag with weapons, from the shipment that Black Mask had stolen from Intergang.

Outside the building, when he was alone, he threw the bag into the nearest dumpster, looked around to check again that no one had seen him and cursed when he saw the shadow of someone hiding around the corner. He turned toward the figure, took a step forward and a man came out of the hiding. The match fell out of his mouth in surprise. Matches knew this guy. The reporter from Metropolis. Damn it. Kent had probably been investigating Intergang’s weapons deal and tracked the shipment to Gotham.

“What’cha doin’ here, boy?” he asked. The reporter seemed out of his place and stammered: “Uhm, I got lost, I’m not from around here and–” he trailed off, staring at Matches as if something had startled him. Matches raised an eyebrow, not believing the obvious lie.  
“Y’better get back to where ya came from, not a good place for ya to be around here.”  
Kent came closer, head ducked a little. “Sir, you see, I’m a reporter, and I’m wondering, you don’t happen to know where some stolen, illegal weapons from Intergang are hidden?”  
Matches smirked. “We should get outta here, police will be coming soon.”

*

Clark knew that this man was a criminal and he should turn him in, but he was also his best source for his article about the weapons deal. So he let himself be led by the other man through some of Gotham’s alleys.  
“Would you answer me some questions?” he asked. The man chuckled. “Why would I do that?”  
“I won’t sell you to the police.” It wasn’t a lie, Clark won’t but Superman could. A raised eyebrow from the other man. “And why should I trust you, boy?”  
Clark shrugged. “Uhm, scouts honor?” Now the other let out a little laugh. “Okay, you have an honest face. Come on, I’ll tell ya what I know.”

Clark was suspicious, wondered why this man, chewing on a match and wearing sunglasses (at night!) trusted him and agreed to tell him everything.  
“Who are you?” was his first question, “Matches Malone, call me Matches,” was the answer. Matches had blonde hair and a moustache and a jersey accent. Clark had seen him coming out of Sionis’ building with a bag, likely to contain money or weapons that he had thrown into a dumpster. 

Matches Malone, the name alone was more than enough to make Clark believe he could be one of Sionis’ men or any criminal. If Clark had been any regular reporter he could have been in real danger (and dumb to come to this place at that time alone in the first place). But there was something about Malone, Clark couldn’t put a finger on it, that he’s not just any criminal, maybe even some undercover cop.

Surprised, the reporter found himself in a car in a rather abandoned part of the city. Matches pulled out a cell phone and typed something for a few silent seconds, then put it away again. He also had taken off the sunglasses and the dim light from the streetlight reflected in his eyes in a strange way and Clark noticed it was because Matches was wearing contact lenses.  
“A guys gotta be careful, people are probably lookin’ for me.”  
Clark nodded that he understood. Then he agreed to keep him anonymously in his article and Matches told him everything he had heard and seen while making the deal with Black Mask. 

With that and the information he had gathered about Intergang in Metropolis he was covered good for a full half a page article.  
“Thank you, that was really helpful.”  
And there was that twitch of lips again, turning into a smirk. “You’re welcome, boy,” Matches said, his voice had suddenly lost its drawl, sounded almost a little tired. The match was long gone since he had started talking and the man leaned back in the driver’s seat, looking at Clark a little mischievous and what surprised him, suggestively. Clark blinked at him questioningly.  
“What do I get in return?”  
Clark paled. Shit. Of course he wouldn’t give him the information for free. He doesn’t want to know what the guy wanted but Clark knew. He swallowed.  
“Uhm, money?”  
Matches chuckled, but it didn’t sound like before. “I don’t need no money, trust me.”  
Clark wasn’t scared, only a bit annoyed. He could get away easily but he was curious.  
“I don’t have anything else I could give you,” he said with a shrug.  
“You sure?” Matches said, still watching Clark with something he didn’t want to name and made him flush. A light nod was all he could manage.

“Look,” Matches started, his face serious and unreadable, eyes still on Clark, “how about you coming with me, I show you what I have in mind and we can negotiate civilly?” Clark hesitated for a second, thinking, before saying, “How about, no?” in a mocking tone. To his surprise Matches lips twitch again under his moustache but didn’t say anything. That, somehow, felt familiar to Clark. He stared at Matches for a second before he sighed and answered, “Okay.”

And that was the story how Clark ended up with Bruce in a hotel bed, looking down into the strange eyes, Matches eyes, while his hands touched the scarred, muscular body of Bruce Wayne. The transition had been strange when Matches ripped off the moustache and his whole posture changed. Clark had grinned, because he knew exactly now what the other man wanted from him in return for his help. And Clark was more than willing to pay his debt, ripped Matches’ clothes off and threw the man on the bed. He thought it would be weird at first but when they kissed and he felt the familiar, soft lips of Bruce, it was hot. Even more, when he pressed into the tight heat, a stifled groan drawn from kiss red lips and he couldn’t hold back his own.

*

GCPD got a tip from Batman about a warehouse where stolen weapons from Intergang were hidden, and they found a bag with weapons in a dumpster. At that time the responsible Intergang members had already been arrested and Sionis had disappeared. The crime lord knew he had been set up, probably by Malone but there was no evidence of Matches involvement anywhere. Batman had made sure of that.

Clark Kent’s article made it to page 2, earning him a “well done” from Perry White and Clark of course never told anyone who his anonymous source was, not even Lois.

He met Matches again some time later in Metropolis. Superman had heard that Matches had come to Metropolis to save Black Lighting, but it was Bruce who came to Clark’s apartment, sunglasses on and match between his lips, a drawled, “Need some info for an article, boy?”


End file.
